Page 30 of Tempt

“You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.” His eyes bored into mine until I nodded. “It’s complicated and…” his voice trailed off and he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “It’s complicated.” Emotions were coming off of Theo in waves and I realized our night was far from over. All those emotions needed somewhere to escape to, and I was sure as hell going to be that escape.

“All’s well,” Martin said as he returned and opened the front door. “Call me when you’re ready to go home, Miss Riley.”

The moment the door closed, Theo was on me. His kisses were the kind that could bruise. And damn my tired body, it responded immediately, craving more of the intensity. I wrapped myself around him and let him hike me up around his waist. His fingers dug hungrily into my hips while mine threaded into his hair and tugged, forcing his mouth where I wanted it.

“Are you sure you want more tonight?” he asked into my kiss.

“Yes,” I gasped. Oh, yes. I would always want more of this. To be this needed…

We only made it to the couch. There were clothes everywhere and I was pretty sure I’d torn a button off his shirt, not that either of us cared. I certainly didn’t. Clothes could be replaced, but this moment could not.

Chapter 12

You know how when you wake up in a strange place, how it takes your mind about thirty seconds longer than your body to put all the pieces together? That’s how I woke up that morning. My body registered the different sheets and the unusual pillow. My nose recognized the faint smell of dark roast coffee wafting in from another room. But my brain kept wandering blissfully through the fog of dreams and contentment until it all hit me at once.

Where the fuck am I?

I sat straight up, taking in all of Theo’s stark bedroom at once. Then realized I was wearing a t-shirt. Dark gray. Soft as shit. I pulled at the fabric to see what was on it. Arctic Monkeys.Awesome.

But where was Theo? And why didn’t I remember falling asleep? I turned to find the other side of the bed clearly slept on, but empty. Theo’s pillow was crumpled and the pillowcase was only barely clinging to the pillow. The comforter and spare blanket were both twisted and wrinkled much like the sheet beneath.

Either we’d had a really intense round of sexafterthe really intense round of sex I remembered, or Theo was a rough sleeper. That’s when I remembered just how good the sex last night had been.

Whoa didn’t even cover it.

I remembered thinking I just needed to close my eyes for a minute and enjoy feeling blissed out beyond compare. Apparently I stayed that way for the rest of the night.

I crawled out of bed and found a clock on the dresser.

Six in the morning.

I’d slept for somewhere in the neighborhood of four hours. In Theo’s bed. I bit my lip. Technically no lines had been crossed, but I’d been actively avoiding this scenario. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep at Theo’s—it was that I wasafraidto sleep at Theo’s. Afraid that I’d like it too much. That it would bring us that fraction of a bit closer together.

To keep Theo comfortable, to keep earning his trust little by little, I needed to keep my boundaries solidly in tact. Knowing me, it would be a slippery slope once I let my heart free. One night would turn into more. Caring. Feeling. Wanting. Craving…

And blow right past Theo’s comfort zone and drive him away.

So I took a deep breath and pushed it back out fast. Whoa girl. Pull yourself together. Last night had been unexpectedly intense. From the stress, to the dancing, to the fast exit from the club, nothing about it had been normal.

And then there had been the sex.

On the couch. The kitchen counter. And finally, the bed. I’d had, what? Three orgasms? And that unanswered question—the one about Theo and control? I knew what that was about now. When he was stressed he liked to see how far he could push things. He needed me to tell him to stop, give him a boundary to push up against. I had a feeling sometimes it was breaking that boundary that got him off, but most of the time he needed it to keep him sane. Without it he was wild and out of control.

I twirled the end of my hair between my fingers as I remembered him holding my hands, drawing out my orgasm while he refused to let me move. Nothing he’d tried last night had been beyond my own experience. I’d liked everything. But I also knew that look in his eyes. The next time he was having a bad day he’d push for more.

So I needed to decide now how far I’d let him push. And how often he needed me to push back. Sex, like anything else, was give and take. It was also a place to be exposed and vulnerable, to find yourself and lose yourself all at once.

My stomach growled. The smell of coffee was a siren call beckoning me forth into the world and out of my head. One problem at a time, and first up was the issue of having spent the night. If I was feeling this strange, then Theo had to be feeling weird.

I found the kitchen empty. Next to the black and stainless steel coffee maker was a white mug and matching plate with two pieces of bacon and a biscuit. I poured the coffee black because is smelled fantastic just the way it was. And sure enough, it was rich and flavorful, but bold as all get out, so I added some cream. After bacon number one was in my belly and the caffeine started waking up my foggy brain I realized I could hear the faint sounds of a piano.

The sound drifted down the hallway on the opposite side of the flat so I followed it. My feet sank into the thick carpets as I padded down the long dark hallway. Just like the rest of the apartment it was lined with dark, rich woods and soft white lighting at the ceiling. The light and dark effect was not lost on me. So much of Theo was a mix of light and dark.

I stopped at the second door on the left. The sound wasn’t loud, but the music was clearly coming from here. I was about to grab the doorknob when something stopped me. I paused with my fingers brushing the cool metal surface.

Theo was playing.

It wasn’t a record or from the stereo system. The notes were too real and not quite on beat… he was composing. Picking out something note by note, trying to find the pattern. Much closer to Gershwin than Beethoven. Not happy, but not sad.

---